


One Tough Cookie

by Measured



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Cookies, F/M, Fluff, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 08:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/pseuds/Measured
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every winter, she had to go and make sure these grown men older than her weren't going out into the freezing conditions in t-shirts and thin pants, in Armani suits because puffy down coats <i>made them look dumb</i>.</p><p>Scout was the worst of them all. At this rate, she was pretty sure at least part of it wasn't Pyro or his aim, but the attention he got if he wasn't wearing them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Tough Cookie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RAXip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAXip/gifts).



> Scout/Miss Pauling - your hands are cold 
> 
> Betaed by and for Multiversecafe.

She tugged on her new extra small fur-lined mittens with a sense of satisfaction. Next was a plum colored hat woven with cashmere, matching gloves with small pom-poms discretely pulled under the cover of her button-up, dark purple jacket. She always preferred Viaduct to the endless dust storms of Dustbowl. There was something nostalgic of the way the frost would make the lights hazy, the smell of smoking wood and cold evergreens. Scout's mother was an expert knitter, and often sent things for the whole team, and as of late, herself. 

Nostalgic winters and the smell of gingerbread cookies. Even better, she didn't have to deal with the downsides of winter. Every morning she woke to the ice scraped from her windows, her sidewalk cleared, the company truck snow tires changed and footprints in the snow walking away.

Of course, he'd never step aside and let something he did go unannounced. More often than not, he'd show up with coffee and cookies for two on her doorstep. Today, it was just traces of a path and a bag from town and coffee left on her doorstep, with the sound of some kind of violence between the men in the distance.

She lingered at the door, finishing lukewarm coffee, and a donut hole glazed with a slight taste of maple. Miss Pauling listened for the sound of gunfire, explosions and any sign they'd gotten into trouble again. Nothing but laughter, a battle cry, a few curses.

She finished the last bite and started towards work. Bunkers and barricades between the road, with insults thrown across barrier. 

They'd been shoveling snow, and predictably, a war had broken out. 

She walked through the knee-deep snow, cold sinking into her boots with each drip of melting snow down her calves. Traveling through the crosswalk was just asking to be caught in the crossfire.

"Miss P, watch out!"

She barely had enough time to turn and see before the red blur pushed her hard to the snow. She stared dazed up at the gray sky, trying to catch her breath.

"Sniper is playin' dirty and throwin' yellow snowballs, and I think Pyro is throwin' ones with _rocks_ in 'em. At least, I _hope_ those were rocks...Oh, shit, you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I? I was just tryin' to keep you from bein' hit, I mean, it was headed straight at you, and I was pretty sure it was yellow—"

"I'm—fine," she said. She cleared her throat. Her hat had come off in the impact. Flakes of snow were all over her hair, cold melting down her back from places where it'd slipped into her coat.

"Hey, your face is all red," he said.

"Yours is worse. You're not even wearing gloves, and you're not even wearing a hat," she said. 

"See, I'm too hot. The snow, it just melts _right off_ ," Scout said.

He held out his hands, looking hopeful and assured all at once. Boyish, red-faced, and undeniably cute. "Warm me up?"

She took his hands in hers, and began to rub warmth back into his skin. He entwined his fingers with her, holding on tight. She blew over his cracked skin, soaked bandages stuck frozen to his skin.

"Are you trying to get _frostbite?_ " Miss Pauling said.

"Nah, Pyro stole my gloves and wears them as a hat," Scout said. "My ma gave them to me, too. Knitted them herself."

"I'll get them back. You just have to give him something else. He's not a big bad monster, you know," she said.

"Speak for yourself! I tried that. He took my pants and my bat and comic books and tried to set me on fire when I went for them back," Scout said sullenly.

"You goin' to narc me out to ma for not wearin' my mittens? I can't bat in gloves, they slip and throw off my aim."

Every winter, she had to go and make sure these grown men older than her weren't going out into the freezing conditions in t-shirts and thin pants, in Armani suits because puffy down coats _made them look dumb_.

Scout was the worst of them all. At this rate, she was pretty sure at least part of it wasn't Pyro or his aim, but the attention he got if he wasn't wearing them.

"No...though Spy did give her my private line. I hear from her quite a bit," she said.

At this rate, she couldn't tell which was Scout's mother's doing, or just Spy being his precocious self. For a grown man, he sure did pull a lot of schoolboy pranks. Then again, if working the mercenaries had taught her anything, it was that no man outgrew violent drunken pranks.

"So, like, you tight with my ma now?" Scout said.

"We have...a cordial business relationship," Miss Pauling said. 

Scout had definitely gotten his chattiness from her, though she was far less blunt about what she wanted, and Miss Pauling was quite sure she had an agenda. Maybe Spy had been rubbing off on her. 

"She can't help but want to make sure you're not getting into trouble again."

"Heh, I always was a hellraiser," Scout said.

"No 'was' about it," she said.

She squeezed his hand one last time and let go. For just a second, he looked utterly disappointed at the loss of her touch. But he brightened up when he looked at her.

She pushed herself up and tried to brush the snow from her hair. She looked around for her hat, only to find it'd fallen farther than expected. The battle around them had stopped, but the mercenaries hadn't come out from their snowy barriers yet.

"I'll get it!"

He dusted off the snow, and tossed it her way.

"Aww, They got pom-poms," he said.

"Your mother seems rather fond of them," she said. She shook of the remainder of snow and put the hat back on, snug across her ears.

Seven mercenaries peeked from over the piles of snow, carelessly shoveled enough to create makeshift barriers for their war.

"You all right there, Miss Pauling?" Sniper asked.

She pushed the snow from her eyelashes. "Mmhmm. Nothing hit me, except a Scout."

"Faster than a speedin' bullet," Scout said. He struck a pose, flexing those imaginary ripped muscles he was always claiming he had.

"What is the score?" Miss Pauling said.

"The other side is cheatin'," Sniper said.

"Skill ain't cheatin', ye Aussie beanpole!" Demoman called out from behind his snow barricade.

"You're puttin' them in your grenade launcher," Sniper said.

"That's what ye get when you challenge a Scotsman!"

It looked like a war could erupt at any moment, and the last thing they needed was another avalanche caused by trigger happy mercenaries.

She rose to her full height, all five feet and stared all of those tough, rugged mercenaries down. "All of you come on in and get warmed up. This isn't a suggestion." she said.

Not a single one of them spoke up with a single challenge. They took their guns, dusting off snow and followed after her. 

*

She didn't just let mercenaries into her on-base flat, which meant that Scout drank in the details, like there were deep mysteries to be found in her faded floral curtains. The wood stove left a different kind of heat, and filled the room with an earthy scent. The mercenaries filed into the room, filling up her chairs. Scout leaned back, his feet on her coffee table. Before she could scold him, Engineer pushed his feet off.

They all wore sweaters, presumably from Scout's mother. Each one increased in skill, with what she presumed were mason jars on Sniper's red sweater, to the doves beak to beak at Medic's chest.

Luckily, she kept enough cocoa on hand to feed an army. A small one made mostly of mercenaries of questionable sanity, but an army nonetheless.

She placed the plate of cookies in front of the men on the coffee table. They were just warm enough to be gooey, but not to burn their tongues.

"There's enough to go around, so there's no need to fight. If you have to start a war, take it outside," she said.

Scout kept twitching, unable to sit still as he held his hands out to warm near the stove.

"You bake _cookies_?" Scout said.

"I don't have much time, but...this was an official duty," she said.

She left out the part where she was to put poison in the most successful batch and personally deliver it to the prime minister. These were the failures, the ones which lacked the final secret ingredient. 

"Whoa, she was in an apron and covered in chocolate most of the day," Scout said, presumably to himself. Even his attempts at whispering were far too loud. 

The men stared down at the cookies like she'd pulled a miracle from the oven. Heavy took a handful, which was quite a lot with his massive hands, and before she could admonish him, he opened his hand so Medic could get his share. 

Scout swiped one from Heavy's hand and took a big bite.

"My God...you cook as good as my _ma_ ," he said.

"You better burn somethin' quick before he proposes," Engineer said. Scout quickly glanced at Engineer. His face went through a quick range of emotions, from confusion, to more confusion, to a sudden clarity like he'd found the meaning of life.

"Propose?" he said. _"Waitaminute—"_

Before he could say another word, she handed him a cookie.

He took it eagerly, melting more chocolate over his fingertips as he took two big bites. His cheeks were puffed out like a hamster. Even when it came to eating, Scout couldn't slow down. 

For a second he stared blank, at licked at his lips, tasting stray chocolate.

"I was goin' to say somethin', but I forgot," Scout said. He shrugged and took a bite of yet another cookie. Unlike her, Scout could eat half the contents of a fridge and never worry about gaining a single pound.

"Miss Pauling, you could make a damn fine business here. I know plenty of people who'd buy those cookies. 'Shut-Up Scout Chocolate Chip Cookies, just like your mama,'" Engineer said.

"I rarely have enough time," she said.

Nor the pressing need for money. But, if it brought peace, she supposed she could get up early and sell the men cookies to distract Scout with.

"Hey, I'm still here, still bein' awesome, and—" Scout said.

From around the room, each mercenary thrust a cookie Scout's way. Scout plucked up every one, his noise dulled to the sound of his loud chewing.

"The answer to world peace right there," Engineer said.

"Base peace, at least," she said.

Spy put out his cigarette on Sniper's hat, turning him into an ash tray yet again. Sniper was too distracted by his cookie to notice.

"Call up his mother, she'll give you a Shut Up Scout cookie recipe. She's perfected it," Spy said.

Scout turned on him, but Demoman tossed a cookie his way.

"I think you all have a lot more shoveling to do," she said.

"Hey, I'll finish all myself! I'm just so great at snow shovelin', got tons of practice, you know. Plus, all these muscles make it _real easy_ ," he said.

"Go ahead, mate," Sniper said. Ashes and cigarette butts fell from his hat as he stood up. Spy snickered to himself as he walked on.

"Wait, you guys are seriously goin' to leave it all to me?" Scout said. He looked distraught from man to man. 

"Do it for _America_ ," Demoman said, doing a perfect imitation of Soldier, and causing him to salute so hard that he nearly knocked over his helmet. 

Scout's shoulders drooped. His bravado had faded considerably now that he was actually going to do all he'd bragged about. The rest of the men filed out the door and out into the cold.

"Once you're finished, you can come back for hot cocoa," she said.

"Like, come in here? With _you_ here? _Here, here?_ "

Scout jumped out, slamming the door behind him in his hurry. The storm door didn't catch, and she rose to close it. 

"Hey guys, wait up! So, like, what's _marriage_ like?" Scout never was adept at subtlety in any form, or keeping quiet, for that matter. "It's awesome, right? You get laid like _all the time_ , right?"

"It's overrated," Medic said bitterly. "And no, you do not."

"...you've got to actually get her on a date first," Engineer said.

"Ey, I'm just talkin' about _stuff_ , it's not like I'm goin' to ask her to _marry me_ or anythin'!" He laughed. "I mean, really, born to run, goin' to chase all the girls, I'm just _jokin'–_ " 

He kept on, talking too fast with mixed metaphors, loud enough that she could hear from her porch. A telltale sign that he'd been caught right in a lie. Every plan and thought of his was so transparent.

Miss Pauling closed the door, but she could still hear him, even at that distance. 

*

Two bowls of batter, she'd held off adding the poison until the last stage, and those were now wrapped up tight in a package. From TF Industries, with love.

He burst in, covered in snow. It hadn't even been an hour. His lips were cracked, with red cheeks and frost caught in his eyebrows. He'd forgotten his hat again. She'd have to go get his things from Pyro, and purchase one of those new gloves with non-stick pads for him and the rest of the men.

"Did you finish it all?" she said.

"Yep! Told you I had awesome muscles! Ain't I somethin'?"

"You're something, all right," she said.

She'd bundled up the cookies, special delivery.

"Want to help me clean up?" She held out the bowls, covered in cookie dough and smears of slightly melted chocolate chips.

"I...I ain't helped clean up for cookies in years—" He choked up, and quickly cleared his throat, attempting to hide the emotion and enthusiasm as soon as it'd shown. But Scout was never good at hiding anything.

He drew his finger across the batter.

"Try this, it's got a chocolate swirl."

"...God, you're perfect,' Scout said. 

"Would you please take a package out for me after you've warmed up? I need it sent to the prime minister's office as soon as possible," she said.

"Sure! I'll get it there so fast, the snow will just melt around me. In fact, I'll run so fact, people will think spring came!"

"Will you, now?" she said.

He sat on the side of her tartan brown couch, past the white sheet that kept grease and oil from any stray mercenaries off her furniture. His knees bumped the coffee table in all his too-tall gawkiness.

He kept taking sidelong peeks at her. She crossed her leg as she took a sip of tea. If he was going to look, she might as well give him something to look at.


End file.
